


The Sea Pirate

by 1117



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Asian Deities, Buddism, Dialogue Heavy, Even some incorrect religion contexts because I don’t study my own religion enough, Fake Historical Contexts, Fights, Hongjoong!Pickpocket, Hongjoong!PirateCaptain, I Don't Even Know, If I say smth wrong pls don’t come at me author is a reckless dumb and a tired mess, Incorrect Historical Contexts, It’s not super plotful but it’s a very deep and sophisticated storytelling au, Jongho!Boatswain, M/M, Mingi!Gunner, Mingi!Merchant, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, San!SailingMaster, Seonghwa!Merman, Slow Burn, This was heavily inspired by a book, Witches, Wooyoung!Seeker, Yeosang!Surgeon, Yunho!Fisherman, Yunho!Quartermasters, Yunho’s their cook sometimes after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26508928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1117/pseuds/1117
Summary: “It is the most unexpected thing existed that created the most expected thing for you to live with.”And the old man had said. "It is the time for you to create your own path, son. Don't follow it. But make it."As a former pickpocket, in all Hongjoong’s life, he had never expected finding his treasure would be so difficult...But at the same time...it was worth it.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. The Beginning of The End

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho.  
> I finished the book after reading for seven hours straight and was so hooked with it.  
> For those who never read it, you should try. It’s only around 45K+ words, so it shouldn’t take much of your time. (It’s brilliant, I tell you).  
> For those who have read it because your professor/English teacher said so? Good for you. They have taste. :^)  
> I read it on my own will lol, and I love that book. If anyone ever is interested, I hope you like it, too.
> 
> I want you to know that I wrote this using the same writing style Paulo Coelho did to keep the authenticity of the book. So it will definitely be going to be difficult for you to understand.
> 
> It won’t be a long au, but I will make sure to add an Epilogue once I finish the book.
> 
> This is a long note, I know ugh, I just wanna let y’all begin with it but let me give you another warning.
> 
> The dialogues, many of them, will be spoken in pirate languages, so make sure to study how they talk first and come back, or you can swing through the online pirate translator if they exist, but be honest with you, they are not that hard to understand. XD
> 
> I’m so sorry for this burden, but I want to keep all the characters in their own elements. ;-;
> 
> I hope you will stay with me ‘til the end because it will be a heavy book to read.

Cats and dogs were falling when Hongjoong tried to sneak behind a small cottage, three towns away from his house.

Hongjoong looked around, placing uncomfortably with the wet shirt and damp black hair, curvy and heavy. He flew his shirt close and open, in an attempt of fanning it, wanting to dry himself before the endless rain dropping down on his head. A warning for an unexpected migraine.

The roof was old, mistakenly could be falling in any measure if he kept counting, but it was the closest place he could get to; Hongjoong didn't know if he could enter the cottage, where he stood didn't fully cover him up. And he wasn't sure if he was welcome here.

There was a rumor. A witch who had been living in this place. Where he had heard from the little kids living in the town that afternoon. Though, at first sight, he wouldn't suspect it any better but a normal cot. Besides its broken down exteriors, the young man doubted it would be any different from other places.

Hell, even his old house could be collapsing at any minute. This one was much better.

The black-haired man carefully looked around the place, being a bit limited in space from preventing himself away, stepped toward the wooden flanks where the rain hadn't soaked its place yet to inspect the cottage's inside. With the dusty windows arranged between his stand and the cot's interiors, he squinted his eyes, peaking inside for what was given.

It was dark. No clear line showed between the harsh black wallpapers covering the inside; nobody was indoors. The young man tried pushing the door, making an ominous creak the moment he put his head halfway in, trying to see more of what had been a rumor for the place to be this terrifying. The door wasn't locked. And despite the dry swallow of worry in Hongjoong's throat. He dared his steps a few inches beyond, made it inside the gloomy, cold room.

There were drops of water coming from the room, he noticed. Hongjoong looked at his surroundings under the low adjustment of light, where he could barely locate a table stood in the middle of the area. Taking over a big portion of the space. He walked closer to it, dodging the hole on top of the ceiling where the water was dripping. If it wasn't raining, the young man knew he would be even able to count the star when the clouds clear.

Hongjoong managed through his small pouch, storing most of his stolen money, counting each coin inside the snatched bag for his using and coming days of survival. He blindly searched through the ragged brown pouch, smiled when the feeling of a wooden box of matches shoved into his palm, the man lit up one stick, finally able to look around his surroundings a bit clearer as he arose. A candle was on the table, a few steps away from him. The man walked up, letting the fierce ignition sparkled through the room.

All light of warmth spread within his standing as Hongjoong bent, putting his palms over the heat to settle down.

The rain didn't seem to stop it anytime soon. If not, the sound growled even louder, splits of thunder roared through the blurring sky where the black-haired man tried to make a way to see what was inside the black cottage.

It was an abandoned place, he figured. With how dark and dusty it was, Hongjoong supposed it had been deserted for a while. He sat on the ground, besides where the table was, hand slippingly reached the candle that was stationed inside a cup, leading its path down to where he was, pulled out all of the coins that he pickpocketed today, eyes inspected the decoration on the walls.

Strange, as he looked. There were weirded shapes of shells: Beautifully carved shells. And even colorful natural-looking shells nicely arranged on each divided section. They seemed to be accessories on the other side of the wall, where Hongjoong could see thin stripes connecting all shells. Small ones in a circle with a big shell stood in the center edge as the pendant.

They were beautiful, and that didn't seem very clear to know why someone would abandon the place, yet still leaving so many beautiful pieces of jewelry back when they could be sell for a reasonable price.

If it was Hongjoong, he would, for sure, make a profit for himself in anyways possible. Especially when the place he was stood nowhere close to where these shells could be found. A fountain of jewels if he was honest.

Hongjoong shook his head in disappointment.

He stopped his mind soon enough before driving his judgment too far, though. The young man had been a mugger ever since he was fifteen, fresh and clean from the business the moment nobody was left for him to mourn. His parents passed away after an accident with one of their merchant carts got stolen on the way to the trading market. Knowing that the thieves' group had planned to attack, two days of their department, after Hongjoong barely had a say in his goodbye, seeing his parents drove their wagon further away from home was the most devastating thing.

So here he was, never got to see their returns. And Hongjoong was alone. Locking inside his room for days before he pulled himself back together. The thought of seeing them where he had been attached for so long disturbed him. Someway or another, it didn't feel as joyful as his house once was; the man wasn't sure if he could ever call it home anymore.

The man's cottage was left where it always had been, and he decided, maybe traveling would free his soul from the dark, emptiness deep in his heart. Though unpleasant, Hongjoong stepped away with a few coins left from his parents' savings, walking aimlessly to obtain happiness once again.

But who shall be with him...when he was one individual himself, couldn't define where happiness exactly was, and why would he want to search for it so bad. There were many questions.

And too little answers for him.

Hongjoong followed what seemed best for his good and rose toward the only path where he could travel recklessly, seeking for something he couldn't even see on his fingers' tip.

The young man decided to stay back at the old abandoned cottage, taking a rest beneath the wet, humid wooden floor, eyes blurry, staring at the undeciphered sky where the droplets found, and the darkness began to crawl up his skin under such a strange setting. His loneliness engulfed the shaking hands, where he counted the coins not so long ago. And he sighed, laying back on the rough surface. Defeated and hopeless. 

He was lost.

* * *

Coming from a place where he had no stand to hold on, Hongjoong knew it was a risk. He had been known all along. But choices have never been a thing for him to make. His family secluded themselves deep in the border between the downtown and where the forest would be, and the young man was all but able to see and seek what more beneath the surroundings he ever witnessed.

It was a sight. The day when Hongjoong left his house, he promised to return. But only at a certain time, where he hadn't felt as lost as now. And be sure to pay his respect back to the deceased couple. To know that he didn't fully see how the world operated, sure was a pity. Although his occupation had been a hazard to take, Hongjoong must have one way or another. Something to walk on while he kept surviving as the Earth spinning around his path.

So, he walked away from somewhere he was foremost familiar with to ask for this little comfort disguised as an adventure.

Hongjoong made it to another town after his stay at the old cottage the next morning, where he weighted the drop of coins inside his brown pouch after the night had passed. This much money could save him for another week before he would have to blend through the street again, looking for more income sources for his upcoming rests. It had been four years now, ever since he began his journal, and despite the lack of destination vivid on his face, he stopped by a small restaurant, calling up a meal to start his days.

He decided not to take over anything on the wall, half for respect and his already existed income, half of other, shortly coming from his belief that the place's rumor and how dangerous the past owner had been. Even if it was a rumor, Hongjoong was superstitious. Though, there wasn't much to worry about when he woke up safe and sound the day after. Hongjoong didn't want to intrude too much. He left as soon as he could, not wanting to interrupt its mysterious atmosphere no more.

At the peak of the morning, the restaurant where he was seemingly joyful with the crowd of people came and went in to enjoy their food. The man assumed it was a famous place, with how much talks and cheers raised through the town, he deemed that he was lucky enough to get the last chair available before the young server had to run out and apologize for the lack of seats. 

There were dancers. A few of them, on the stage where nothing had been prepared, the young ladies started stretching before they gathered into a small circle, and Hongjoong thought this must be why the place had been so crowded although the sun was far from totally raised. An indoor stage was built inside the cozy restaurant, where it stretched was wide enough for a dozen people to move around. On the chicken wing side, a group of musicians began to play as the ladies got themselves into positions. 

Hongjoong sat somewhere far away from the stage, hidden behind the curtains that decorated the fancy floor. Still, his eyes were able to wander at the young ladies spinning in circles with their fans, trying to please the customers in the seats.

The young man pulled out a small notebook that he sometimes made before, years even when his parents were still alive, jotting down words from a small brush and a box of ink he bought a store over earlier. Hongjoong liked to write. Be it novel, lyrics of a piece, or sometimes just random words revealing in his head. He tended to input all of his thought into the little note before they vanish. The dancers still dancing on stage, smiling toward many other customers whom he knew would surely never leave an interest in those ladies. But he noticed someone among the group, beaming at him. 

He was far away, at the spot that could easily go unnoticed unless careful. He squinted his eyes confusingly, looking around with other tables to confirm he didn't imagine it. With the brush in his hand, the young man ignored the stare from the unknown dancer dressing in a soft pink silk clothing, continuously writing the inspiration that he caught not too long ago from the musicians. Hongjoong was deep in thought, a spark of idea flashing through his mind as he tried to convey them into words, not noticing how the food was left cold on his table.

His stomach growled enough to remind him that the day was still on, and he hadn't started his meal yet, so recognizing as he was, stuck in thoughts of ideas. Hongjoong folded his notebook and shoved it back into the pouch, where he left with half of an unfinished sentence before grabbing the chopsticks.

He didn't even realize the music had stopped. And there were many people, but weren't as crowded as the moment he walked in the early morning.

"What are you writing?" Hongjoong looked up at the sweet high voice coming from ahead, noticing a woman was walking closer to him. It was the same dancer who smiled at him earlier.

"Just some stuff, I do that when I get inspired." The woman smiled again, something artificial about her smile, but Hongjoong blinked his eyes, feeling a strange pull toward the young lady.

"That's very nice. How did someone like you get to read and write? And if you can read and write, why are you dressing like that? Shouldn't you do something wealthy at this point? Perhaps a scholar?"

Too many questions. The dancer's words pierced through the man like a knife, haunting a part of him and his own consciousness. He noticed the ragginess in his clothes and the brown ripped pouch on the side of his hips. Not wanting to answer her question, he just smiled.

Someone like you.

"Let say, I went to school just like everybody else, but couldn't afford anymore after my parents' business failing."

The dancer nodded in understanding.

Although displeased with her previous remark. Hongjoong stayed back and had a small chat with her.

She was a beautiful young woman, and if he was honest enough to confess, she must be the most beautiful one of all the dancers on stage. With the lack of her politeness toward him earlier, Hongjoong learned that the young lady didn't get to leave the place as she pleased, being a worker and a servant at some point. Hongjoong learned to realize that he might take his life a little easier than imagined. And he excused her offending innocent question earlier, knowing that she would never understand either way.

While she told him about her life, Hongjoong returned, telling her about his adventure and the strange, unfamiliar towns that he had traveled, not truly revealing what he did for a living. The lady listened attentively, nodding here and there in surprise whenever he mentioned all the ventures he had been through. Her eyes sparkled beautifully, and she smiled one of admiration and another of fondness, completely immersed into his stories. 

Hongjoong hadn't conversed with anyone for this long, and they talked for a long time. The food went cold and left out at this point, and for once after four years ever since his parents' death. The young man felt a light glittered inside the center of his chest. The small conversation bounced between the sheltered atmosphere.

And he felt content.

He wished that the restaurant wouldn't call her up anytime soon, and let their conversation flowed until the end of the day. It didn't last for long, though, where the young servant he saw in the early morning called her, and she stood up and apologized for taking away his times.

The young man did not mind; he smiled in understanding, but for the first time since forever, he felt happy. And he looked at her, the pink silk dress walking away toward the back of the restaurant, feeling as if it was a sign to end his adventure. As if he didn't have to travel much further, but four towns away from where he started.

He wanted to wait for her.

Hongjoong knew he couldn't linger there long. Noticing the restaurant owner's glance, he hushedly packed his stuff up, threw ten coins on the table after a sip of the cold porridge, and reminded himself to return.

The young man walked away from the place, heading toward another new town as his path still revealing unknowingly, but this time, there was a stop.

A stop where the young lady belonged.

* * *

It wasn't the first time he had the dream. It was the second time. And as creeped out as Hongjoong had been, he wondered why the same repeated dream had been reappeared. Dreams held much meaning to paraphrase and could be understood variously. He wanted to know the significance of his dream but wasn't sure if he should trust his instinct to listen to it.

To interpret its words into reality.

He looked for a shaman who could interpret dreams and walked some town away from the stop he had set, feeling uneasy in his chest. The people who lived in the town had described how powerful the man was. His problems would be solved if he put his trust in the right place. But what was really the right place? Hongjoong couldn't answer through words.

But he still stepped inside the store by the end of the day, letting the man led him toward a table, where he sat down and folded his legs on top of a yellow cushion. 

There were statues of Buddhas arranged based on their ranks and levels on top of an altar, rings of brown beads handing on the edge of a closet on the room's corner. And candles surrounded on the table with papers of spells, yellow talismans, drafted all over the wooden table. The room smelled heavily of incense. The curtains inside the place blocked most of the light the sunset could leave for him, and the hang-up garlic strings spreading on each stripe that was taped on the ceiling and the walk-in door. Hongjoong sat uncomfortably, fixing at his shirt and the brown pouch on his hips. 

The shaman left to get a candle, lighting up before put in his table to see Hongjoong's face clearer. He held his brush of white, soft strings, spreading a layer of salt on the table before forming a circle inside it with his index finger, looking at Hongjoong up and down while chanting, Hongjoong noticed it was in Chinese.

The young man was nervous, not knowing what the old man had to say, but he sat still, constricted his breath for a moment, just wanting the man to finish with the weird thing he was doing. 

"Let me see your palm." The shaman had said.

"I'm not here for a palm-reading." Hongjoong felt overwhelming with the thing he did, wanting to get out after an unknown freezing breeze passed by his chest, making him wordless.

"And I'm trying to interpret your dream." Hongjoong skeptically showed his left hand, letting the man grab on it as he inspected the lines, feeling even weirded out about the man when he did not mention his reason to be here in the first place. "Dreams are messages from Buddhas. To understand the Buddha's words, you must understand his feeling and reason as he gave you this dream. If Him who speaks in our language, I shall guide you through his words. If he speaks through the language of the soul, it is your responsibility to understand it. To understand Him."

"But either way. I must charge you for the consultation." Hongjoong didn't like how that sounded. Too complicated and was never got to the point. He wondered if he was being tricked. And the silver coins that could last him for five more days seemed to weight even more now in his pouch.

And knowing how ridiculous and dumb would it sound, he did feel bad the moment he started pickpocketing. Hongjoong was just a hopeless young man. Having no such thing as "a choice" to decide on his path, he felt sorry for taking away someone else's earn of his own benefit, but he also needed to survive. It was as round as a circle of life.

And the thought of giving the shaman the money, where he was nowhere close to claiming them as his own. While continuing his path for another wave of survival through a different town, Hongjoong felt a wash of guilt rubbed into his skin's inner, chewing him up alive. But there was a saying. One dream meant a deja vu, two same dreams meant a message. And three same dreams meant a warning from the future. Hongjoong wanted to risk it for once.

To figure out what this message would be, hoping to be explained. And the black hair only luck was the man beyond him.

"Tell me about your dream." he calmly asked.

Hongjoong perked up, feeling iffy about their interaction, "I saw myself walking on the street, a town that I've traveled to before, until my feet felt as if there was no ground to stand, and I started falling." The man had urged and wanted him to explain the rest of the dream, but the next part had had Hongjoong stuck for days, feeling numb as the words spilled through his lips.

"I-I saw myself being swallowed into an endless pool of water, where there was no bottom to stand, nor top to reach. It was dark, cold, and turbulent. I wanted to push up for air, but something seemed to hold me back. Then I wanted to just drop it all and let it pulls me down. Something started pushing me away. There was only in between, no black or white. No branch to hold or ground to sit." he continued on, a bit disturbed, "And there was a whisper, a woman's whisper if I recall, I couldn't see who it was, but she had told me to reach where the three edges lined, where the rotation of tempest would form. To immerse me into the Bermuda Triangle, where I can reach for what I needed most." He breathed, "She said to come, to look for my hidden treasure. To know the truth answer of where my hidden treasure laid."

The shaman seemed to be quiet with Hongjoong's words. He held up the other's palm again, observing it in silence, the young man could hear the white noises started bubbling up into his ears. "Very interesting." After a long while, he said, "I will interpret this dream. But in exchange, you must give me all of your silver, every bit of them, before you get to leave. It's an important dream, and I know that this treasure will be much valuable than the stack of silver you have right now."

Hongjoong furrowed his brows, uncomfortable with the trade, "How is that alright? You are asking for all of my wealth! Even if I know where my treasure is, there will be no money for me to search for it."

The shaman stopped him with his hand, "You will survive. I have two daughters to feed, you don't. You are a pickpocket, aren't you? You will survive." Hongjoong's stomach churned at the words. How could he say such things so effortlessly? Not feeling single guilt in his words.

"I know what you're thinking, boy. But this treasure, as I could interpret, will worth everything of your wait, and I want you to know, everyone had their own way for survival, and yours might be an unhealthy way to live, but as long as you know where your heart calls you, there is no right or wrong in your life decision." Hongjoong felt discouraged.

"In exchange for your bags of silver, I will show you the dream first for you to understand, it was a language of the world, and I could understand it, but for you to change it into reality, that's all on you. If someone had called you to come to the place, it must be a message, so come to it, where ever this Bermuda Triangle is located."

"What if I can never get there?"

"You must. By any cost, it where your treasure is calling you, and if you can't, that would be on your loss. Fear not to be discouraged. It is the most unexpected thing existed that created the most expected thing for you to live with. It is up on you to pick. By the end of the day, I will still have my money, and you will go on your own path. Be kind-hearted as much as you can, and He will respond to your kindness. Namo Amita Bul."

Then the man told him to leave, the sky was getting darker, and he had to return home with his daughters. Hongjoong felt disappointed. He swore to himself that he would no longer believe in dreams. After having nothing left on his pockets, and there were no people left where he could at least gather a few coins to stay by a hosted house, Hongjoong signed in defeat, looking for an abandoned roof to stay by for the night. Hongjoong thought of the pink dress dancer served in the restaurant and felt a deep lump in his throat.

He wondered what she was doing right now. If she still remembered him, or if she ever wanted to see him again. He walked toward a small brick house that seemed empty for the most part, looking for an unoccupied room as he walked inside the yard. It was eerily quiet. He got inside a room with a broken door, decided to sleep by with the dirty old bedroom inside the old, abandoned house, somewhat designed like a previous District Lord's residence, who probably settled for sometimes before moving to a better location.

It seemed strange knowing how people would likely move away rather than staying in one place. And despite all of the things they receive, nothing was enough. Hongjoong assumed it must have been the reason for them to pick up and move on. And he must be doing the same. Yet, these people, who could only speak through assumptions, know themselves better than he did. As time passed, people changed, be it willingly or not, adaption was the main point of survival. But ironically, how people would change in their own will, and influenced others to do the same. But when someone wanted the same thing to happen, the influencers disagreed and started denying such change. Everyone seemed to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about their own.

Hongjoong thought back about the shaman, who told him that he must look for his treasure. And maybe, he realized, this was the change that they wanted him to reach. As disobedient as he could be, he knew he was independent.

Except, he was also lost.

He sat on the crooked old bed, thinking of how isolated he had been, and wondered if he was wise to start on this journey. He had not yet found the happiness he was looking for. It was all a blurry sight. 

He decided to take a good sleep before the sun raised up anytime soon. Blowing off the dust on the dirty wood pillow and the thin bamboo mat on top of the bed, the young man settled down, put his arm over his head, legs crossed up as he gazed toward the old ceiling. 

Sometimes after, when Hongjoong's brain supposed that he was tired enough, his body went a bit more stretched out, and he closed his eyes.

"Wha' are ye doin' here, scallywag?" Hongjoong startled at the rough, harsh voice from above. He opened his eyes and saw an old man looking down at him.

"Uhm, trying to sleep?" Hongjoong was annoyed at the sudden interruption, sounding bitter than he meant to. The old man gladly didn't catch on but sat down beside him when he got himself up and pushed a bit to the side to leave some space. Though it was partly true that he wanted to fall asleep. Hongjoong was thinking of the young lady, and he wanted to go back his own little train of thought. It seemed like the old man had another idea.

The old man asked if he had anything to drink or eat, that he had been starved the whole day. Hongjoong looked at him warily, but still offered the last pieces of dalgona that he bought earlier today. He also gave the striped water bottle on his waist. The old man took a big chunk of liquid into his throat, seemingly thirsted for days, and bit desperate on the candy. Hongjoong felt uncomfortable at his disturbing eating habit but decided to stay quiet. It's not a polite manner to behave rudely toward elders, after all.

The man regained his energy, breathed out with more ease, and turned back to the young man, wanting to keep going with their conversation.

"Ye seem t' 'ave a lot o' worries."

"What makes you think so?" The young man asked, curious at the statement.

"Well, I can tell. Ye wants t' know greatly about which path t' pick fer yer life. Ye be lookin' fer a booty." Hongjoong surprised.

A man who spoke like a pirate, harsh uncomprehended words traveling through his ears, surely knew about Hongjoong's day and thoughts. It gave him the same creep as the shaman he met today.

"Let me be honest wi' ye; nay many swabbies b'lieve in bountiful booty. An' that`s th' sad part about all o' ye. Crewmaties. They nerewanted t' look fer some reckless dreams an' search fer the'r own Personal Legends. That`s why nay many b'lieve in a repeated dream an' presumed them dreams as an inability t' control the'r owns lives. An' they ended up thinkin' this wi' th' world`s biggest lie."."

"What is the world's biggest lie?" questioned Hongjoong, confused.

"'tis this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control o' wha's happenin' t' us, 'n our lives become controlled by fate. That's th' world's greatest lie."

"But that is not true, I was supposed to inherit my parents' trading business, but look at where I am right now."

The old man nodded, "Good. 'cause ye wants t' look fer yer life. Yer own happiness."

Hongjoong was overwhelmed. A stranger, who sat beside him in this strange place, speaking of strange things that made no sense. But then, it made sense. And it weirded him out because the man knew what he was thinking. The man was dressing in old ragged clothing, his breath was heavy with a sour taste, and his hair smelled like salt. Hongjoong wanted to squint in distaste, but he held back enough to not do so. The man looked like a pirate. Or those that described in books when he had learned back in school. With a black headband on his messy long hair, and a dirty jacket on his shoulders.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"From me greatest lover. Th' sea."

Hongjoong shook his head, "nobody could be coming from the sea? I mean, as in where you came from. Since I've been traveling a lot. But I came from one place. What place? Or town were you coming from?"

The old man huffed, "Let say, I was born in Yonggung."

Hongjoong had never heard of the place before, but he didn't want to ask to offend the man, so he just nodded. Switching the subject sounded less ignorant.

"What do you do at the sea?" And the old man started laughing.

"Wha' do I do? I am th' god o' th' sea!" Hongjoong stared at him weirdly. Insane people liked to say insane stuff. He decided not to press on it. He didn't really like to associate with people, let's be frank. This was the reason for him to wander in such an isolated way. Not having anyone beside him. Hongjoong didn't know if that was better or burdening him more. Some people would speak something incredibly unexpected, and he didn't know to respond back.

"My name be Yongwang." Hongjoong furrowed his brows. How funny would this be? The man's name was literally meant 'Dragon King.' But the thought was ridiculous. The old man didn't look one bit like a king. "And how much doubloons do ye 'ave right now?"

"None, but tomorrow, there will be enough for me to keep going." He answered bluntly.

"Enough? Enough means I can nah help ye, young scallywag."

Help? Hongjoong didn't need help. And the man's conversation started to irritate him, so he got up, looking for another place to rest, leaving the man right by the bed. "Let me sleep, old man. I need to get going tomorrow morning." He sat down on the ground where it had a small dusty cushion, and the moment he adjusted his sight and turned around to lay down, the man was now beside him again from out of the blue. Hongjoong gasped.

"Give me yer water keg an' bracelet, an' I will show ye 'ere th' hidden booty be." The man had said, still dressing in the same ragging clothes, but Hongjoong was convinced enough to know something was wrong the moment the old man was next to him.

The water bottle was a birthday gift from his father, besides the yellow bracelet that his mother had made for him. He didn't want to do so. They were the last things he had from them. And by listening to this man. He was giving the old man the last bit of his own treasure.

Before he could talk in protest, the old man swung his hand, and his parents' figures forming by a bubble of water appeared in the air, the school that he attended before appeared, the girl in the pink dress appeared. So was Hongjoong's figure. And he was astounded.

Hongjoong stood up, realizing who was the person in front of him; he frightened, wanting to bow down at the man before him. But he was pulled back by the rough but careful hand, and the man was shaking his head. Hongjoong was clearly not mistaken, sitting beside the God of the sea.

"Why would the dragon king be talking to someone like me?" He had asked, shocked, and afraid.

"Fer many reasons. But th' main one, I would say, be that ye 'ave discovered yer Personal Legend."

He didn't know what a Personal Legend was.

"Personal Legend be somethin' yer spirit would like t' fulfill. Every sprog knows wha' thar owns Personal Legend when they be young, but th' vision will stop as they grow 'cause o' other forces that act on them. Refrainin' them from achievin' thar owns Personal Legend. 'tis about workin' towards somethin' that supports yer highest spiritual, mental, emotional, 'n physical needs fer livin' yer life wit' purpose." Hongjoong nodded, although it made no sense to him. And it was hard to follow, such vital words but spoken under the harsh accent voice, the young man was trying his best to understand what the man had meant. But to no avail.

He wondered what did the man meant about the "forces that act on them." And the man responded, "somethin' that would be thar as a block fer ye t' prepare 'n be ready t' reach yer goal. 'tis mostly viewed as a negative thin', but 'tis thar t' help ye realize wha' ye desire most. 'tis all th' temptation that exists t' block ye from reachin' yer Personal Legend. But it exists 'cause it wants ye t' achieve th' goal. When someone truly wishes wit' all thar heart, mind, 'n soul fer somethin' thar desire o', th' universe will revolve around them 'n will give them wha' be worth given fer."

"Even if you don't know what you are doing?"

"Even so," the old man nodded, "'tis yer mission on Earth."

And Hongjoong kept silent, carving the man's words into his brain. They both stared at the dark, clear night above the gushing wind. 

And the man broke the silence.

"Th' owner o' this place was once an adventurous man. But as th' son o' a Lord, he had no choice but t' follow his old man's step. 'n ne'er got t' leave th' Town Palace more than three gates. He used t' 'ave a dream jus' like ye.

"But in th' end, he didn' reach it. He grew ole 'n settled down. Many scallywags ne'er realized that they are capable, at any time in thar lives, o' doin' wha' they dream o'."

"He should have run away and make a new life like me." the young man said.

"He did, certainly. He did." The man smiled, "But he had a responsibility t' carry. 'n 'twas that force that held 'im back from reachin' wha' he wanted. 'n he knew, he understood that takin' wha' was given sounded smarter 'n safer than wha' ye ought t' challenge. Fer sure, becomes a Lord be more important than wanderin' around helpless 'n lost."

Hongjoong's chest twisted, and he remembered the young dancer. Maybe she would also prefer someone who could carry their responsibilities, not as hopeless and lost as him. He wanted to ask for other things, he had so many wonderments, but nothing came out properly in the end. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

The man hummed, "'cause ye be nigh-on reachin' yer Personal Legend. But wit' th' thin' that jus' lingered in yer heart now, I knew ye're about t' stop 'n give it all up."

"Is that why you're here?" 

"Nah precisely," the man said, then he explained that there were many other deities that existed to help other beings reach their Personal Legends. Hongjoong had understood and finally learned that the God of the sea was here with him because his dream took place in the ocean. Though he had never seen what the ocean looked like.

"We tend t' guide human kinds through different message patterns, some would loot a form o' an animal, some would be th' weather, others would be an item. Or even jus' a simple thought. 'tis as how ye perceived it, most o' th' time, nobody knows it happened." 

After a moment, the dragon king then told him of a story. He told him the story of Sanshin, the mountain God who appeared in a young man's dream and revealed a treasure buried on the back of his cot's hill. The young man had tried to dig it up, and he had been stuck for seven years long searching for something that plainly said from a strange dream. If he was more patient, just a little bit more patient, he would be able to dig it up. Sanshin had watched how the poor man threw his shovel away frustratedly and wanted to crawl up, so he finally showed up to help. Beneath the dark musky soil, the poor man's feet were stuck. And he desperately pushed them out. Until he used the shovel and tried to dig his feet up, only to hear a thunk of something sharp. And he lifted his feet away: In all its glory, was the treasure chest that buried deep down below the level he never expected.

The dragon god had sighed, with vivid bitterness, of how humans would give up at a certain time and immersed in the things they would call 'Fate' rather than to make fate as their own. Maybe that was why they gave things up so early, too.

Then he got up, walking out of the old house, looking back at the black hair with a wave. "Ye heard me. Tomorrow, at Snake hour, by th' last town afore it reached th' main dock, give me yer water keg'n bracelet, I shall guide ye t' where ye should look fer yer treasure. I be sure ye know everythin' would come wit' a price. 'ave a good night, aye." His yellow teeth showed under the moonlight, and he walked away, soon disappeared once Hongjoong blinked his eyes unconsciously.

* * *

He couldn't sleep much that night, having the old man's words lingered in his head.

The next morning, Hongjoong dodged through the line of people, mostly traders, and merchants who traveled from town to town and pulled the stack of coins that he barely stole from those men into the brown pouch. He bought new clothes, a bag to carry, and a small compass, knowing that he will travel to the sea. Sometimes around the beginning of the Snake hour, he stood by a bench around in the town near the old man's mentioned port. And true to his words, the ragged clothes figure had appeared beside, sat on the old, fragile bench with him. For some reason, the man knew where Hongjoong would exactly be, and much to his surprise, he decided not to say anything. 

Hongjoong started thinking back on what he had been through. Of the suddenness of his parents' pass-away, of the people he had met, known, and the clueless faces of those he had stolen from, of the young dancer he met not so long ago old house bounded between the forest and the townspeople. He had decided to be a pickpocket. And clearly wasn't the smartest thought; he did learn many along the process.

He learned how to see who owned what. To sneak and to swift with his movement. To be precise and observable. He had learned to watch people's faces and to improvise when critical situations walked upon him. He thought he knew enough to survive. He had learned how to fight, how to run away from others. To create a temporary place to linger. He thought he knew things. But being a pickpocket didn't bring much freedom as he expected. For sure, Hongjoong was a tiny being. As if he was a mouse, running away from his own crime, in return, running away from his own freedom. Maybe a mouse suited him. With how much he had run to hide away after his stole, happiness would never match his actions.

The smell of sea salt was wringing on his nose, where he realized, despite the long line of miles away from the water surface, he could still taste the humid breezing salt on his tongue's tip. Then he thought of the sea and how lucky it was; to be able to swim through the flow. Be as free and as careless as it could be sure sounded like something he was hard to gain. But besides his past, his dead parents, his own guilt in occupation, and the young woman that made his chest tight, Hongjoong had nothing else to hold. 

What if he could just release them all, though? And aim for his Personal Legend. Will he reach what he desired most?

He noticed a horse wagon of people pulled toward a big brothel, and five ladies walked down. The young man widened his eyes, seeing the dancer he had met was there, as she walked toward where the brothel was, four others, and a strange man. Hongjoong noticed how fancy the man had dressed, jewelry, and how sketched his hanbok's fabric had been. What shocked him more was the hat the man wore.

It was the District Lord's hat.

And Hongjoong felt a pang in his chest, finally comprehended the scenario folding in front of him.

With a shaky breath, he held his head back down at the ground, as if he just saw something he shouldn't see.

The man beside he spoke, "Now that ye 'have seen what ye should be seein', I be assumin' naught be stoppin' ye any more, savy?"

"Did you know that all along?" He asked, but the man just shrugged, along with something about how he was in no place to reveal what he saw in the future.

Then, the man put his hand, telling Hongjoong to shake it. 

He was thrown off with the action but proceeded to put his hand out, touched the man's palm. A blast of light sparkled out from the man's forehead. It was so bright he couldn't even see a thing. Hongjoong closed his eyes from the intensity of lightning beyond him until it all stopped, and the black-haired man opened his eyes in a haze.

The old man from before, who was no longer dressed in the ragged pirate clothes from earlier, now had clothes looking similar to a king's attire. The dragons decorated on his white clothes crawled around with an emerald light. And Hongjoong stared at him in astonishment. Surprisingly, he was the only one who could see the man beside him. Nobody was looking at his way.

"Is this how you truly look like?"

The king smiled and shook his head, "No, I am a dragon, my true skin would be much fierce than this, I'm just showing you a form that I believe appears much more familiar and comfortable to you." Hongjoong nodded in recognition. He was really a dragon king.

The king opened his other palm, where Hongjoong noticed an item, the size was a small as the compass he bought, with red-colored sides and a symbol in the center top. He noticed it was Yin and Yang. 

"This is a box of decision," the king said, "It will guide you when you can't pick your own decision. Inside the box will be a hundred stick of incense. And whenever you want to know the answer, light two sticks up, and plug them to both sides of the circle. Which side that burns first will be the answer to your question." Hongjoong received the box from the man, looking down at it warily, "It will only take objective questions, so refrain yourself from depending too much on it."

"There are many things that like to let you achieve your Personal Legend." He continued, "always take the side of the good omens because those things are what would successfully lead you to your goal." Hongjoong believed him. When he was young, there had been a bird's nest on top of his roof. He wanted to take it down, but his mother had told him not to.

"A bird's nest on your rooftop is a good omen. Money and luck will come to us, the same goes for when they poop on us." Hongjoong had laughed at that, but his mother explained that the wind will carry the waste anywhere, but if it comes to touch on top of someone's head, that person was meant to receive a good omen. It was the purpose of goodwill that led the wind and the bird's waste to them. Not because they were unfortunate to have a bird pooped on their head.

Hongjoong still thought it was ridiculous.

But he decided to believe it.

"Where do I have to go?" He asked, and the king answered, "To where your dream called you. The Bermuda Triangle."

Hongjoong thought of how everyone else seemed to know what he was doing. From the shaman to the god in front of him. As if there was no point in looking for something that others have seemed to know. But he understood it was the purpose of their words. They wanted him to look for it, regardless of what he never knew were ahead of him.

"Giving you the box was something beyond of me," the king said, "but if I had no other returns from you, that wouldn't be a fair trade, wouldn't it? In return to your desired treasure, it would be best to take away something that is weighing you down so much. So forgive me for taking away your parents' gifts.

"It was a hard choice to make, but it was your first one. And I'm glad you have made a great choice. This is what we called the beginner's luck, where you pick a decision that will guide you closer to what you desire, good omens as we say. You’re making the right step.

"Taking away these items should make you feel better. What is pushing you down isn't just yourself. But also your surroundings. Now that you're looking for your Personal Legend. Wouldn't it be wise to forget your past?" The king smiled, "It is the time for you to create your own path, son. Don't follow it. But make it."

Hongjoong had shocked hearing the king's words. He was quiet for a moment, feeling sorrow with the sudden mention of his parents, the king picking up the atmosphere.

"Let me tell you one last thing before I go," he said, "You can do whatever you want, but remember, don't forget who you are, your purpose, your will, and where you came from. Always remember what had been the most treasured thing in your life first before seeking other wealth."

Hongjoong understood, putting the king's words into his mouth.

He could be a pickpocket. He could be a traveler, a pirate, or even the king, but he shouldn't lose himself over any given reserve laid before him. Remember himself and what most essential to him were what he must prior over. It was the little things that were the most important gifts.

Then the king walked away, Hongjoong shakingly bowed down at the figure three times as he turned around, seemingly floated on the air for a few seconds before he roared through the blue sky. His body turned fully into a majestic, enormous white dragon as the king dipped himself straight down to where the direction the sea would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me explain some stuff here. For those who are Buddhists like me and feel something off about my descriptions or any sort of symbolism or history or title about Buddism, whatever I am based on here is through the South East Asians religion: which means the Buddism of the Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, and Japanese.
> 
> As a Vietnamese, which I am doing my best to base the story plot and characters on the Chinese gods since that’s where my origin influenced from, it will definitely be different to the Buddism that associates with where it FIRST and FOREMOST came from, India. So just a side note that if you think something is weird, please understand that I am writing it based on my own religion knowledge and if something is off about it and I might be wrong about my religion (istg it happens a lot) I genuinely apologize for that. 😭
> 
> In ‘The Alchemist’ the author based a lot of references in the Bible and mythology. I thought it was an interesting way to create this story in Buddism since Korea back then (along with its neighbor countries) were influenced a lot by Buddhism. And what’s even more interesting is, all religions are coming from one place since so long ago.
> 
> And I think there shouldn’t be much boundaries between how we believe in what our own God tells us, since they taught us to understand what matters most in our lives. And it’s technically the same thing.
> 
> I’m sorry for writing a lot but religion is such a sensitive topic I HAVE to make it clear 😭 I wrote this story based on inspiration but I also want to come out prepared enough. I really hope nothing would offend anyone whoever stumbled across this AU. :<


	2. Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the short chapter but I've been super super busy this week. (This is why you don't take 17 units per semester kids, it's a nightmare istg. ;-;)  
> Waegu = Japanese pirates in case you wonder.  
> I was looping Sea - BTS while writing this chapter, it was very calming listening to it after a while. Damn, I love this song so much.  
> I hope you enjoy! :,)
> 
> **ALSO TRIGGER WARNING: INJURY! BLOOD!**

It had been three days ever since he remained at the dock town by the sea —where people were trading, and ships were departing from the port. He sat at the bar that was close to the view. Like any other bars, it was not much different besides the musky decoration and the wooden smell mixed with sea salt. 

This was the first time he had ever seen the sea. The majestic view, the setting spreading around his eyes with an endless path, and the horizon itself seemed incredibly magnificent. He thought he was lucky to be able to see the sea at least once in his life. The blue sky reflected through the water surface created the same color scheme, blended in, and harmonized with the illustration.

The sea was more than what he expected for, and he enjoyed his time staring wordlessly at the scenery beyond him; sometimes, the cost of traveling was to abandon the place you were attached to the most. But the reward was worth achieving for.

The young man noticed the deep dark blue swam around the bottom of the ocean. Sooner or later, he knew how dangerous it would be once exploring, recognizing that the floor he would be in wouldn't form through the dark soil of land as it always had been, but by the body of the ocean. It was something he had never been to before. Dark and mysterious.

The port was exposed to various types of people wandering around the place. There were traders, sellers, merchants, fishers, young and older people with different occupations, and pirates. He noticed the strange ships docked by the port and wondered who the owners of them. He wanted to ask to be a part of it. If better, asking them to guide toward his Personal Legend would be advantageous.

He wasn't sure if it was his Personal Legend calling for him, yet, Hongjoong felt drawn toward the abstruse cerulean appearance in front of him.

The black-haired slowly sipped on his drink, the server was barely a few inches from him, and he carefully looked at the group of pirates who were drinking and talking by the corner of the bar. The language they spoke sounded foreign in his ears. The man caught a few terms that could be understood in Hanja, but for the most part, he was clueless about their conversation.

"Hey," he called the young server, a kid who shouldn't be older than thirteen, and the boy turned his back around him.

"Do you know who they are? Can you understand them?"

The boy looked toward the direction Hongjoong's finger had pointed and seen the group of pirates that he served the drinks earlier. He nodded.

"Yeah, they are the Waegu, they dock here once every full moon to stack their ration and supply. Not the cruelest group. I've seen worse than that. But they are still troublesome. You know. Pirates. I can hear enough to understand them. They're speaking Japanese."

Hongjoong did look at that in recognition. He had never heard what the Japanese would sound like, but he knew enough of who they were through the books. He realized that his knowledge wasn't in fair use at all. Maybe not yet.

"Why?" The boy had wondered, "are you planning to talk to them?"

Hongjoong looked up at him, questioningly, "I suggest you don't. Those Japanese pirates won't get you anywhere. They will take your things as you come by. If I were you, I would pick someone else to interact with." And he walked away with the empty cups on his hands.

Hongjoong stared at the pirate group again, weighing the words from the little boy. Pirates were stealers, he had heard. And so was he, he was also a pickpocket, and Hongjoong laughed at himself. He seemed to suit this role more than realized. A pickpocket. At sea!

Just how convenient the universe had wanted him to be. It was a strange thing to think of. 

But the boundary between him and them, those who laughed loudly and cared for nobody. Those people who existed to kill and steal were so rampant and carefree, who never bothered to look at the consequences they made. The young man realized that every stealer might serve the same purpose. But not all stealer was the same. At least not him. Not to those Waegus.

Some moments after, as he sipped his drink, he noticed one detail about his adventure. An important point that he had unknowingly skipped. It was something that would have to hold him back for a long-term raincheck before he could find his desired treasure. All just by looking at the Waegus a few tables between him.

Language.

He wasn't sure what the people would speak at the Bermuda Triangle. What would the primary language be? And how hard or long would it take for him to learn it? He wondered what the foreigners spoke when they anchored by the harbor, the language's name, and how many people would understand it.

He read enough books to know what the people wanted him to know but didn't have enough knowledge to understand what he needed to know.

He thought maybe this was what the dragon king had meant. To obey the thing called "fate" and listen to his surroundings, rather than making his own future.

The man decided to get up and gather his pouch and clothes bag, fixing them over his waist and shoulders. The sound of coins that he threw on the table rang against the smoked taste wooden surface, and he pushed the chair he was sitting back. An ugly shriek formed through the floor and the seat, drawing a few attention from the people surrounded him.

Hongjoong had reminded, he had known relatively not to associate with stealers (the fact that he was one sounded horrid enough). And he wanted to leave, hearing the kid's previous warning, maybe asking for an adventure and hope to be guided in the blindness like a bird in the middle of the blue sky, he deemed, didn't sound as brilliant as he initially thought.

Hongjoong considered, maybe he didn't have to ask help from the pirates; there were many other ways.

He believed if the deity had helped him once, they sure were having eyes on him to keep guiding.

The young man left the place soon enough, trying to look for other forms of transportation. He didn't realize later; empty eyes were creeping along with him on the way out. The pirates stopped talking. And when he turned around to the silence of their table, a few smiled at him. Something that disturbed him —with a crooked and schemed smirk. Pushing the uncomfortable feeling that slowly settled into his head, he made the door, trying to walk as fast as possible.

He knew those eyes.

Though he didn't show much, he knew those eyes despite any individual he ever passed.

 _If I were you, I would pick someone else to interact with,_ the little boy had said, and the man measured his word with every ounce of honesty. Besides, he had been pickpocketing long enough to know what was black or white. Hongjoong managed to walk to another block away from the bar, somewhere closer to the dock's direction. If he made it far enough, those pirates sure wouldn't catch up to him, would they?

His worst disadvantage was the lack of knowledge in the town. He didn't know where he would have to go, to hide and to sneak. He recklessly took three left turns at every street he made, then walked faster at a right turn that he saw after. He had a pouch and a bag of clothes. And he desperately wanted to throw them somewhere hidden, so he could run and snatched them back later. He was in a strange town with strange people. 

Hongjoong thought maybe walk faster, best if he could skip to the town behind the dock, he would be safer. It was still in the early afternoon, the sun was still high up in its glory top, and he could get inside a resting place close by, asking for a room to cover. He didn't make it far, though.

It was at the short-end of the street he made a right turn at, and Hongjoong frightened. He didn't know where to go now, and walking back out to the street means he was asking for his own grave. The man thought of how unfair this was and how unfortunate he hadn't even set up with the sea. Its enemies have already reached his feet. The sound of laughter and footsteps were getting closer, and even if he didn't want to, he turned around, arms held tightly on his bags. There were nine pirates. He had counted earlier at the bar, and that didn't make him feel better at all.

He gulped nervously, staring at the bulk of people before him.

"Where ye goin'?" One of them had said, stepping up from the group as they blocked his way to escape. The man spoke in Korean, but with a husky and chubby accent, each word dragged through with the trademark pirate talking tone. He knew it because of the old man, but he wasn't afraid when the old man chatted. He was now. With how heavy and malice the pirate's voice had sounded, each pick of cells in his skin riled up, as in an instant act of white blood cells against unfamiliar bacterias, and Hongjoong warily held his hands up in a defensive stance.

"Look, th' wee rat be scared!" The pirate had laughed, and another smirked at Hongjoong's startled posture.

"Is th' wee boy goin' t' pee his britches? Look at ye." Pointing at Hongjoong as if he was a speck of dust, and they all ugly guffawed with the raspy throats, making the voices echoed through the dead-end road, making Hongjoong's stomach churned further. 

He wanted to get out of there, but there was no space to escape. And he could fight, but a one against nine had never been a smart option first of all. So he stepped back in hesitation, wanting to read their actions, with the luckiest chance he could get, by using his own brain to run away from this caging situation. He didn't have much time.

One man stepped up to where he was, wanting to grab on his arm, Hongjoong quickly held his stood, snapping at the man's rough hand and twisted. He pinned the man after bent the hand to the back; the man surprised with the sudden tackle down, wanting to turn back to attack, but Hongjoong was faster, and he pushed his knee on the pirate's neck, holding him down.

The rest of the pirates was shocked by the sudden outcome, not expecting such a fragile figure, as to how he appeared to be, would be so fierce and brutal. But pirates were pirates, and they were cruel for a reason. Upon seeing their crewmate got held down in an instant, the rest of the eight decided to take the matter a bit more seriously. And that was when Hongjoong thought he had many regrets in life.

They pulled out their blades and cutlasses. Then they formed a circle around the young man. Hongjoong was on the ground with the man he gripped, and the shadows were covering on his head as they walked closer; he tried to leave the man there and pushed; maybe if he could grab by the wall and crawl up, he could get out of here. But expectations and practical situations were never ideal for putting together, so Hongjoong was cynical, not knowing what to do. 

Another man pushed his dagger toward Hongjoong, and the pickpocket stepped on the floored pirate as a stand, weighing on the sharpness of the blade and spun, letting the man tripped over nothingness, and he harshly kicked him on the back. The pirate fell down and dropped his sword; Hongjoong carefully picked it up and raised it in front to defend himself again the rest of others.

They have seen what he could do, and they wouldn't let him rest.

All six men jumped upon his stance and pointed their weapons, Hongjoong could only defend himself. His cutlass touched one of theirs, and the sound clank through the street. Nobody seemed to appear; either was too afraid, or the path was hidden entirely away from the crowded harbor. Hongjoong kicked on one of the man's knee, making him lose his foot, and dodged down from one of the forward attacks; he was able to hold on for a moment.

But it went downhill quickly after.

One of them slashed on his arm, and Hongjoong's aim went reckless, weakly defended himself while the other hand lifted on the cut; it was a painful one, and he shoved his body back onto a nearby wall, shakingly steady his breathing.

Fuck. What a great day.

The pirate who had laughed at him earlier, who he assumed as the captain, roughly grabbed on his collar and slammed Hongjoong's body into the wall. The hit made a stinging crack on his spine, and he whimpered in pain. And one moment where he couldn't feel the burn through his haze of sight, a sharp piece of metal split through the bottom of his stomach, where the young man sensed a foreign cold weapon ripping his skin, and he grunted.

Hongjoong couldn't even feel himself sliding down from the wall as his bag and pouch were being coarsely pulled out from his chest and waist. And the pirates have taken everything with them, shufflingly dragged their comrades and escaped the scene with bitter remarks. Hongjoong was just hopelessly staring at the street with his eyes on the ground, seeing strange and cruel figures walking much further away with every second accelerated. He could feel the wetness on his body. The last moment his breathing was weaker, for the first time since his parents' death, he cried, feeling how sudden and abrupt everything had been.

He had lost everything. There was a wound on his abdomen, and he didn't have much time until his last breath draw, at a strange place and strange people. He thought it was too soon for him to unite with his parents.

And he still hadn't found his desired treasure.

Or even his happiness.

His body was numb, and he laid on the ground, crying disconsolately at his what so-called fate and got tired at the excessive amount of blood loss quickly. He wept because the higher-ups were unfair. And because this was the way they repaid those who believed in their dreams. He wanted to close his eyes, and maybe to let all the pain shifted away after. But knowing that being angry at the situations where nobody was at fault besides those greedy men wouldn't heal the wound faster. Maybe someday. Someday he would learn how to forgive.

By carrying out a pathetic exhale, Hongjoong eyes slowly closed, waiting for the grim reaper to come by.

But what joined his ground wasn't any form of black, because amid the blurriness, before he had given up the last input of his breathing, the black-haired man saw a shadowy figure of a man yelling and running toward his spot. Someone who seemed too tall for his liking that the appearance went beyond Hongjoong's eyesight.

And then he knocked out cold on the street.

* * *

Hongjoong woke up with a strong smell of fish.

His body was numb, and he couldn't lift his fingers, let along with his head. He saw a straw rooftop at where he was positioned, and he couldn't recall what truly happened but the painful headache punching his brain. It was a stiff, swollen kind of pain, where the young man couldn't even push half of his chest up for a straight position, and just by lifting his head was exhausted his body enough.

He wanted to get up, to wonder where he was, or even to ensure if he was safe enough. Or did he die? And this was just a tired dream of what regarded to be the last bit of his imagination?

It was frustrating to lay down uselessly without being able to do a thing. And Hongjoong blankly stared at the straw ceiling, the smell of fish was getting stronger every second he breathed. He recollected that he was at the port town. And some blurry memories of him leaving the bar by the sea got chased down by a group of Japanese pirates, and right...He was also got stabbed by one of them. The thought left a bitter sensation on his tongue.

Hongjoong tried to push himself up again, but before a tired grunt could leave his lips, he heard footsteps, and the sound of a door opened. A gush of wind blew inside the bed where he was, and someone walked into the room. 

"Oh, you're awake." A low, stable voice spoke, breaking through the air inside. Hongjoong could hear the shriek of seagulls somewhere outside, and he tried to look at the man who just walked in, but couldn't see clear with the bright light from outside the cot. It took him a moment that he could draw the outline of the man once he stepped closer, along with a basket of towels, water, and smashed herbs inside a bowl.

He wanted to speak, but all it came out was a rough crack. He managed in the end, "W-where am I?"

The man set the basket down on the edge of the bed, "My house. I'm surprised that you woke up earlier than expected. Two days. With that wound of yours, if I was you, I would have been bedridden for one whole week." Then he bandaged the herb into the soaked fabric and dapped it over Hongjoong's wound. The young man didn't even realize his chest was bare, and there was nothing covered but the ripped pieces of cloth that once wrapped around him until it was replaced with a new one. He hissed at the burn.

"I found you bled on the street. You don't have to tell me anything now, but I'm glad you're awake. I have never expected to see that much blood in my life. Just rest for a bit more since you are still weak. My name is Yunho, so if you need anything, just look for me. I won't be here all the time because father is fishing outside, and I have to help him with the net but don't mind bothering me. I will get you some food, so give me a moment, there is some water in the teapot. Would you like me to get you some?" Hongjoong blinked at the talkative man who huddled over the towels and the smeared mess from the herb, pacing around to clean dirty the items.

"S-sure, thank you." He nodded.

"Alright, I will be back." After pouring the water and gave it to the young man, the man who called Yunho, swung the towels over his shoulder with the basket in hand, walking out of the small cot.

Hongjoong stared at the ceiling for sometimes, lost in thoughts before he struggled, pushing his body up without messing the herb on his stomach, he took a sip on the small cup that Yunho gave him.

Silence took over the room again. And ignoring the background noises of the waves flapping its wings, or the birds singing their hearts outside, the young man held tight on the cup with both hands, feeling a little more lost and exhausted than he would always be.

Hongjoong wondered what had truly happened and the meaning of this, of everything he had encountered. He wondered what he had to do next, and wondered if this was a test for him coming from the people above. The young man sighed, feeling crushed. He didn't know what else that he had to linger, and the purpose of all the events occurred to him. He didn't have anything left now. No clothes, no money, not even his parents' items, not even his notebook, not even-

He remembered something.

The incense box that the old man had given him, out of everything else, it was the only item that he had put somewhere else, and he shakingly touched his pants, to where he had striped the box into the inner side of his pants. 

It was still there.

He still had the box. He could feel the sharp hexagon shape on the right side of his thigh, and he pulled it out.

The man stared at the object in his palm. The Yin and Yang were still there, the red sides of the box were there, and it reminded him of the king, as if it was a message, saying that he was still there. 

Moreover, he was still watching Hongjoong.

But Hongjoong was lost.

Because what was the point of looking for something that he wasn't sure if it was real while he had nothing in possess at the moment. It sounded pointless in many ways. Hongjoong didn't know if he was making the right choice or not. But he remembered the old man's words, 

_When someone truly wishes with all their heart, mind, and soul for something they desire, the universe will revolve around them and will give what is worth given for._

If this was what the deity wanted him to put his trust in. Even if there were many holes and questions in his words, Hongjoong thought he had nothing else to lose. Besides, it would be a waste to come this far, only to back away and misuse his times. Hongjoong believed time should be spent wisely. Up until this point of wandering, he realized that everything would come with a cost. And if he was determined enough, he would be rewarded fairly. He rather searched for something unknown but knowing that he had used his time looking with the best of his ability than go half away only to stop and return.

He knew it was a lesson they were teaching him. And he aspired to listen to it.

Hongjoong opened the box to find the small size incenses lined up neatly inside. He took two out and found a candle cup on the table at the end of the bed. The young man scrolled through the mat, reaching for the fire with the two sticks, then closed the box before he carefully plugged each of them into the holes of the cap.

"Is he still with me?"

The smell of incense spread around the room, and he felt a bit calmer as they surged through his nose. As if they were a reassurance for his safety. 

He waited for the incenses to burn, and after a few minutes, the incense's on the Yang side turned off.

It was yes.

He decided to burn another pair.

But this time, rather than one side would burn as it should, both incenses burned together at the same time because his question had been, "Will I find my treasure?"

It wasn't a yes, and neither a no.

So Hongjoong decided to think positively. The king had said, "always take the side of the good omens because those things are what would successfully lead you to your goal." And the young man observed the incenses.

Even if it wasn't a yes, it wasn't a no, which means he still had a chance. And chances only happen when you decide to reach them. Hongjoong smiled after a while, thinking back at the old man. Things have been convincing for him to believe in, and he couldn't back away anymore. He had seen the man showed his power, had new about his past, of the people that have been with him, and the people he knew. It was truly convincing. He wanted to put his trust in it and decided to look at this as a good omen.

It was too soon to give up.

Hongjoong blew away the ashes on the box and stuffed it back into his pants stripes. Feeling relaxed and peaceful.

Yunho walked in a few minutes after and smiled as he carried a tray with a bowl of porridge. "Sorry for the wait. I had to help my brother with his delivery, but I got your food." He set the tray down and gave the bowl to Hongjoong, "It's quite hot, so be careful. I see that you have managed to get up," the man smiled, his hair was a little brown, Hongjoong assumed it was from the burning of the sun. And his tan skin glittered of sweat when he gave Hongjoong the food.

Yunho wiped the sweat on top of his forehead with the back of his hand.

Hongjoong held on the bowl, still a bit numb from his injury, scooping the spoon in a shaking manner before he blew on the soup to cool it down.

Codfish porridge, he noticed.

"Isn't codfish expensive?" Hongjoong had wondered, the fatty taste of the porridge submersed inside his mouth the moment the spoon lingered, and he hummed. 

"It is. Father caught it yesterday. We would have a weight of coins by now, but my brother Gunho wanted to taste it, so I had to beg him to not put it on the counter. And I thought of you too, I've heard it helps with sick people."

Hongjoong nodded at that, thankful at the man's kindness. "Thank you so much. Thank you for saving me. How can I repay you?" He knew that everything would come with a cost. The old man had taught him.

The brown-haired man shook his head, "You don't have to, being alive is the greatest repay I could hope from you." And Hongjoong was awestruck with the man's generosity.

He was silent for a moment, then spoke, "So, is your family works as fishmongers?" Yunho responded with a nod of his head, "Yeah, we catch them and sell for a living. How about you? I still haven't learned your name yet. Actually, I have never seen you around before? Where are you from?"

"Hongjoong." The latter replied, "I'm a traveler." Yunho made an 'oh' sound in understanding. "But I want to look for a job here. I need money."

Yunho had looked at him in surprise, "Here? Out of anywhere else?"

Hongjoong had nodded again, firmly and surely. "Do you need anyone to lend a hand? I can work for you if you want. I'm desperate." He looked at the taller man, a little begging, hoping that whatever good omen he trusted was true.

Yunho had looked a bit shocked at the man, "Well, we do kind of need some help at the moment. We need someone to help us deliver the fishes to people. If you want a job, I can ask father this afternoon once he's back. I'm sure he will say yes, we do need some help right now."

And Hongjoong had a look at the very first luck he received on the peak of his fingers. 

Good omen.

Or beginner's luck, as the king had said.

Hongjoong felt as if he could walk again, as hope began to fill in his mind, and his chest didn't seem as suffocated as it was before, but Yunho's question followed after pulled him back to the present again.

"Mind telling me why do you need the money? As in, desperately?" Feeling urgent in Hongjoong's voice, Yunho had asked out of curiosity. 

Hongjoong looked at him, unpredicted, then looked down back on the right side of his pants, where the box was hidden, and nodded. As if he had made the final decision, wholly depended on himself.

Not on the box.

"I need money to build a ship."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IS THE ADVENTURE STARTING YET??? WOOOOOOOOH??? WE SHALL FIND OUT!! :>
> 
> Also, I watched Hongjoong's VLIVE the other day and when he played Don't Go - EXO I was literally sobbing my EXO-L ass was crying for it damn it's been 7 years since the album released can you believe that? I've been listening to them since their debut already I was so emotional. :")))
> 
> Hongjoong and his superior music taste, love that for me.


	3. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i literally ghosted myself the whole october but then im telling u i was very, very busy >_<
> 
> and like my last class ends at 7:45 PM so i genuinely have no will to sit down and writing aus after that fk ton of works and classes i was EXHAUSTED
> 
> this is the very bit i can gather in my free time sorry for the very little amount of works count i rlly need to pull myself tgt 😭
> 
> AND why did i take programming, math, and physics altogether this semester omg i have so many regrets gahhhhhhhhhh

Hongjoong had been working and living at Yunho's place for nearly half a year. And though the job wasn't anything he would pleasantly enjoy, Hongjoong was glad to be under such a considerate family. He was inexperienced and executed mistakes sometimes on their deliveries, yet the payment was fairly shared. And he got good commissions. Yunho's father, a hot-headed man, somewhat completely contrasted to his two sons, giving constant naggings of the young man's lack of pace in duty, and it bothered him, though he wanted to do better. So he always promised himself to work harder.

He and Yunho got closer, along with their close range in ages, leading to the unswerving drinking nights at the edge of the waterfront, talking about their concerns, ideas, and sometimes when they were too drunk to remember; their dreams.

One day, Hongjoong had counted the load of coins that he saved in the past few months and calculated how long he would need to save for the ship that he wished. He counted roughly about one and a half more years to have enough money for materials to build a ship. He was frustrated, not wanting to rush, but young people, like many others, were impatient in someway.

And he wondered if he could push the progress on gaining money. Walking inside the fish stall with hands in pockets, he looked at the decoration around the store. It was a basic street market decorated counter, where everything was revealed, and anyone could see what was happening inside the seller's spot. The only things they have were rackets of fishes and a big woody sign on top of their heads. It was simple, yet familiar. 

But the coziness the place offered wasn't the ideal illustration Hongjoong would aim for, as if he wanted to input more details. Maybe some more designs. He asked Yunho's father one day about having new changes inside the store. But the older man shrugged. 

"It has been fine all these times, what with the sudden change? If you want a ship, our place isn't ideal, to begin with."

But it was too late to tell Hongjoong that now. He was almost beginning to attach with it- a job with a good commission.

But it was never enough.

"It gave me enough desire to change it." The young man had confessed, right on time, as someone paid for two mackerels on their way heading downtown. "Maybe a change will make some differences. But sometimes a difference might be big, too."

The man had thought about it. Their business was doing well ever since Hongjoong worked with them. It reminded him back to his youth before he was too busy handling two boys the day his wife passed. The man thought and thought. Through the mysterious pressure and the lingered of his little bit's memories. Everybody was living for a change. And only risking for that change that they learn to know if it is a good change or not. So he settled.

The next day, the man agreed to let Hongjoong redesign their small store, and the young man did with pleasure. He spent all morning and night fixing the store sign, rearranged the interior, and the owner found a little section of chairs and tables outside of the counters, with a cemented ground stove beside the shop in the morning.

"What is this for?" 

Hongjoong woke up with a smile as the sun barely peeked through the horizon; Yunho's father was preparing himself for another big early day catch. "I will grill some fishes, and the people can try to taste it. If they like the taste, they will want to buy more." 

The older man had looked warily, nets in hands, and fishing rod striped to the side of his shoulder.

"If nobody buys them, I will pay for the sampled fishes with my money," Hongjoong assured, and the man heaved a tiring sigh before he left off with his boat.

"Do whatever you want, kid."

Hongjoong began with his plan, arranging the tables and chairs as he began with his work, the smell of grilled fishes spread through the port once the sun shines from the edge of the ocean. He told Yunho about the plan, and the taller man smiled, feeling eager with the new changes. Sometimes after, when old ladies arrived with their morning purchase, the young man had offered some of the meat. 

They ate in pleasant and decided to purchase some more. With the good omen beneath Hongjoong's palm, he looked at Yunho knowingly, and the man had looked back, a spark of excitement shined through his eyes.

Yunho's father returned in the afternoon, with big catches on his hands; the older man had surprised with the crowdedness in his shop, even if it was at this time of the day. 

"Business has really improved," he put the basket of fishes down from the boat, and Hongjoong ran toward him, wanting to help as he wiped his hands into the apron that he was wearing. 

"That's because we responded to good omens," Hongjoong said, without ever mentioned the King's existence. But for some reason, the older man seemed to understand him just fine. The week followed, more people have gathered around his small fish counter, where he had never hope for any magic to happen in all of his life. But the young man, who stumbled across his life through Yunho's generous action, was the source of their current success. And the man was happy, somewhat proud to get to know someone with such good omens in hands. He decided to give Hongjoong even more commissions, which much skyrocketed than half of what he earned. And Hongjoong's pocket had been quickly filled with the wanted money for his ship.

Yunho's father learned to understand that money wasn't everything in this world but the commitment to obtaining them, and he believed the young man deserved it.

He had thought that the young man contributed enough and considered how determined he was at the thought of reaching his goal. So, one day, when the sky dimmed with the fog surrounded the port, the man had sat down, offering Hongjoong a drink in the haze of the breezing morning. "Why do you want to travel to the sea?" The older man asked in wonderment.

"Just because," Hongjoong responded without a direction, staring at the gray-blue water surface as he sipped on the drink, the spice of alcohol instantly shooting up his nose. "I was born somewhere deep in the mountains. I don't have anyone left to linger with, so maybe a new place could be a change of mind."

The older man hummed in understanding. He sipped on his drink, "But why the sea? I mean, I heard that inside the palace is a nice place, too. Most young people would like to travel there to make money." 

"Maybe." Hongjoong looked down at his bottle. "Maybe I could have done that." He swirled it. "But I've also wanted to travel to the sea for some time,"

"It's a dangerous place. Unless you're a fisherman or a merchant, nobody bothers to travel to the sea. I assume that you don't want to bother with any trading business once you sail your ship."

"Being a pirate will do," Hongjoong suggested, and the older man looked at him in surprise, then he laughed.

Hongjoong furrowed his brows.

"Good one, kid. But this old man here has lived long enough, and the first thing I ever learned from my father was to not meddle with the pirates." Then he patted Hongjoong's shoulder and got up. 

Hongjoong looked at the man's figure and huffed, "You never have dreams of travel." Then he chugged down the bottle frustratedly. The older man stopped briefly at the words. Then he moved on.

Two days later, when Yunho closed their little counter and took his brother home, their father had pulled Hongjoong back for a talk.

"I did have dreams of travel," the older man confessed, "I have wanted to travel with my wife into the palace and lived our lives there. That was before she got sick, and Gunho was barely fit into our arms, but I was afraid that we wouldn't be successful without much saving in hands. So we waited. But some months after, she got weaker and barely able to stand up. I started fishing to get a few coins for her medicines, but it was too expensive at the time, and we couldn't afford it." He sighed, suddenly overwhelmed with the heavy memory as each word uttered, "In the end, when we have saved enough money for traveling, she already passed away. And I..." He hesitated, "I can't bother to think about leaving this place at all. Because what would my purpose be? There's no point in traveling anymore when she's not here. And I thought it would be too selfish to take the boys to a new town, seeing how attached they both are at this dock already."

Hongjoong was silent at the man's words, feeling like a strange lump in his throat began to grow bigger.

"We are not like anyone else. If we make a mistake, then that's it. There would be nothing left for us to live on; I guess that was why I was hesitated to travel before. But you know, sometimes I regretted not taking that risk, because we never know what would happen, maybe if I did, I might have gotten successful and have enough money to afford the medicines, and maybe if I took the risk, we would have fulfilled our dream. When I saw these young faithful kids pulled into the palace's town, I felt jealous. But you can't change the past, and I've done mine long enough to know where my limits are; maybe you will do it better." He sighed again before packing up his tools and started moving.

Hongjoong stared at the ground in battlement, listening to the man's words as each sound traveled through his ears, and he turned around at the man's silhouette somehow managed to stand already at the corner of the street. He finally learned that not everyone got to make changes in their lives. And he felt the need to talk with the older man again, but for what? In pity? In comfort? Or in sorrow, because he knew that they both led two different lives, and Hongjoong got to decide his path more than he thought. So he stopped himself at the action and quietly walked back to their cot in deep thoughts.

He realized that fate wasn't something he should depend on, but not everyone had a chance to change their fate. And not everyone had the will to do so.

But he did.

* * *

Business at their little fish counter had grown better than ever, so much that Yunho's father decided to hire a few more people for delivery and to stay by the fish store. It went well for another year, and Hongjoong found his pocket even fuller than what he had planned. 

Hongjoong had saved enough money after one and a half years to build his ship. And he knew that he no longer needed to stay back at the cot with how affordable he could spend traveling. He hired a few men to build up a big ship with a stable structure and decent colored. He paid them kindly and still have plenty left in his pouch, enough for him to travel into the palace's town and started a new business.

But as tempting as the thought sounded to him, Hongjoong didn't forget the King's words or their encounter months ago. Despite his endless curiosity about what his dream would lead him to, Hongjoong was eager and contained too many unanswered questions. It was thrilling and maybe exciting. And his path might drastically change as he stepped his feet into the sea, Hongjoong didn't think he had much regret to hold on. Besides, he remembered Yunho's father and his dream. The older man had things to hold him back. And somewhat undecidable ideas lingered before, Hongjoong's life seemed to completely release him from whatever idea that could restraint him back.

Regardless of the life that harshly rubbed into his shoulders, Hongjoong, for once, thought that he was lucky.

A week after the ship had been built, Hongjoong woke up early at dawn, thinking of how lonely he would be for the current time. It would be just himself as the ship sailed, and he would need to say his good-bye to the generous family before leaving for his trip. 

He packed his things into a big fabric bag and changed himself into a new set of clothes. Something that he could finally afford for his own. Fiddling with the items in his bag, he stumbled across the yin and yang box that the King had given him, and he realized that he hadn't use any of the matches ever since the first day he was at this place. Hongjoong promised not to use any of them anymore. He wanted to decide his path by himself rather than on decisions that would freely offer him. It didn't feel authentical. And for some reason, the touch with the box had given a familiar feeling. As if the King was nearby.

Hongjoong had waited for the older man to wake up with his luggage in his hands, wanting to thank the man for everything he did and to ask him to tell the two brothers of his department. And the man looked at him, deep and nervous like he had something to announce. After some time, he said, "Whatever you are looking for, make sure to get it at any cost. You didn't come all the way here to return with a blank hand." And Hongjoong nodded, surprised at the man's words as if he acknowledged something. "I regretted not risking anything for my dream, and I'm now too old for that. But I have my hope in you, and I hope you will get what you desire. Even as you are away, remember, this can always be your home." And he gave Hongjoong his last blessing as Hongjoong walked away, feeling uneasy in his chest at the strange words. Strange words that came from someone who wasn't any stranger to him. 

Hongjoong walked onto his ship as the man stood at his cot, clasped tightly on his two palms where he watched Hongjoong's figure slowly far-reached from him.

"Please take care of Yunho." He whispered. The tears held on his eyes longer than intended, and the older man strolled back into his house, feeling proud and emotional as the minutes ticking by.

* * *

_When someone truly wishes with all their heart, mind, and soul for something they desire, the universe will revolve around them and will give what is worth given for._

Hongjoong had remembered the old man's words, rushing between his feet while feeling even more anticipating with the faster he took his steps, and as he gathered himself by the ship where it still docked at the port, he took a deep breath. 

A form of preparedness.

He walked on the wooden board, heading closer to where he deemed his desire would be, closer to his dream.

Yet, the moment he stood right on the ship, a man sat by the mainmast, waving his hand from across the deck. Hongjoong widened his eyes in surprise. "Yunho? Why are you here?"

The tall man smiled, with the aura surrounding him almost seemed like a faint cheer from the wind, and it blew by his hair. He walked closer to where Hongjoong stood, excited.

"To join you, of course."

"But I thought- Didn't your father- Wait, what?"

Yunho smiled brighter at the man's confusion, "I have been talking to father, I told him that I have always wanted to travel at first, but he was very opposed to the idea." The taller was contemplated at the thought, "Well, he was, until we met you, and I don't know what had happened between the two of you, but when you started building the ship, he suddenly mentioned my wish to travel the night after. I was concerned at first because if I go, it would just be him and Gunho now, but he urged me, saying along with if I don't go, I will regret it. I had thought about it these days, but then, I have always wished for it, so I took the chance."

Hongjoong was amazed; Yunho's father was a man with many worries and concerns. If he had finally allowed Yunho to do the things he wanted to, Hongjoong assumed that the older man also wanted to recollect his mistakes and let his son chose the path that he deemed to be the best. It was amusing to know how words can change a person, yet not many realized such changes. 

Hongjoong smiled, feeling content that he had obtained the first member beside himself on the ship. He raised his hand, hoping for the latter to shake it, and Yunho followed, trading his agreement in satisfaction. 

"So what are we doing now, Captain?" Yunho said, half-joking, half-serious.

Hongjoong had laughed at him, bringing his belongings inside the quarter that he had set for himself, with Yunho followed behind like a puppy.

"From the moment you stepped inside this ship, you are officially a pirate, wanting it or not." Hongjoong grinned, not with any malicious, and nodded in confirmation. 

"A pirate?" Yunho shocked, "But aren't pirates bad?"

"They are, will always be, but not under my ship." Hongjoong had said, voice tripping in determination.

Yunho hummed in wonderment at the shorter man's words, then composed himself again. "Then, what is your plan? Captain Hongjoong?" 

The young man seemed to enjoy this title a bit too much. "What is a pirate's main goal? It's to look for treasures. And I, conveniently, have something that I have to look for." Yunho peaked up at the words, "Something you have to look for?" Then he snapped his fingers, "Ah, the desired treasure that you have talked about, right?"

"You remember?" Hongjoong looked at him in astonishment.

"Of course, I have better tolerance than you think, hyung."

Hongjoong laughed in embarrassment, "Right...Well, we are going to look for that from now on. Any obligation? Questions? Concerns?"

Yunho raised his hand with a headshake, "No, not at all. All I want is to travel, I don't mind having any other goal along the way, as long as we are on it together." And Hongjoong was happy with the thought.

"Then we are settled." He nodded, leading Yunho to where he could stay on the ship at this moment. It was a small room built on the left side of the ship.

"Welcome abroad, quartermaster Jung Yunho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST WATCHED MONSTA X COMEBACK IF YOU SQUINT LONG ENOUGH YOU CAN HEAR ME SCREAM FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY CHEST I AM GOING CRAZY ARGHHHHHH
> 
> BEASTMODE... IF YOURE A NON-MX STAN....WHAT ARE YOU STILL WAITING FOR???? EVEN IF YOU DONT STAN MX, I BEG, LISTEN TO BEASTMODE - MONSTA X THAT MF SLAPPPPPPPPED SO FKING HARD


End file.
